maybe.’
‘What, you’re trying to kill yourself?’
‘I feel like I’m already dead, being stuck in here.’ She glanced up at Corso.
He looked troubled. ‘It was pretty bad for me too,’ he said, glancing away from her.
‘Corso, how did you know—?’
‘Drink a little more now,’ he replied, cutting her off.
Some time later that same day she glanced over to see him standing by the door-opening, framed by stars. She watched him for a while, and realized she was starting to feel better than she had in days. Even the migraines were beginning to tail off, and her mind remained clear despite the ambrosia.
A voice she hadn’t expected to ever hear again spoke inside her mind.
How come?
It’s okay, Piri , I get it. Things are going okay for once.
See you when you come back round. Over and out.
It had been a moment of revelation when the Piri Reis had successfully piggybacked its signal on the derelict’s own, more esoteric, system of communication. It had taken serious willpower earlier in the day not to punch the air in triumph, as it would have been hard to come up with an appropriate excuse to give Corso for such exultant behaviour.
The facility containing both the Piri and the derelict spacecraft orbited a moon whose Bandati name translated as ‘Blackflower’. This in turn orbited Dusk, the nearest of two inner-system gas giants known to the Bandati as the Fair Sisters. The farther gas giant was called Dawn. At the moment, the orbits of both Dusk and Ironbloom had brought them relatively close to each other, although Ironbloom’s greater orbital velocity would soon widen the gap.
Unfortunately, there were limitations to Dakota’s ability to communicate with the two vessels. For the moment the signal had to remain, by necessity, entirely line-of-sight. Both Piri and the derelict communicated via highly directional tach-transmissions that could pass through planetary bodies with ease, but the resulting interaction with ordinary matter generated enough Cerenkov-Mahler radiation to draw the attention of Bandati monitoring systems entirely capable of identifying a rogue transmission’s point of origin and its destination.
Blackflower completed a fast orbit around its parent, Dusk, roughly once every twenty-seven hours, which meant Dakota could only make contact with the Piri and the derelict for about half of that time – and only after dark, when the part of Ironbloom on which her tower stood was facing the right way.
But still, there were satellites orbiting both worlds on which signals might be piggybacked. Consequently the derelict was hijacking the Bandati’s own communications grids bit by bit – but that was taking time.
And Dakota wasn’t sure how much time they had left.
Corso turned and saw she was watching him. She caught his eye and immediately he looked away, a look of regret and guilt crossing his face as he did so.
In that moment, she realized he was keeping something from her.
They had clung together the previous night, still desperately glad to see each other, but as the following day progressed, Corso’s continued refusal even to discuss what had happened to him before he appeared in her cell both worried her and made her suspicious.
Her gut feeling that he was keeping something back increased every time she caught his furtive glances. By the time evening began to draw in the atmosphere had become badly strained, and Corso had taken up
‘What, you’re trying to kill yourself?’
‘I feel like I’m already dead, being stuck in here.’ She glanced up at Corso.
He looked troubled. ‘It was pretty bad for me too,’ he said, glancing away from her.
‘Corso, how did you know—?’
‘Drink a little more now,’ he replied, cutting her off.
Some time later that same day she glanced over to see him standing by the door-opening, framed by stars. She watched him for a while, and realized she was starting to feel better than she had in days. Even the migraines were beginning to tail off, and her mind remained clear despite the ambrosia.
A voice she hadn’t expected to ever hear again spoke inside her mind.
How come?
It’s okay, Piri , I get it. Things are going okay for once.
See you when you come back round. Over and out.
It had been a moment of revelation when the Piri Reis had successfully piggybacked its signal on the derelict’s own, more esoteric, system of communication. It had taken serious willpower earlier in the day not to punch the air in triumph, as it would have been hard to come up with an appropriate excuse to give Corso for such exultant behaviour.
The facility containing both the Piri and the derelict spacecraft orbited a moon whose Bandati name translated as ‘Blackflower’. This in turn orbited Dusk, the nearest of two inner-system gas giants known to the Bandati as the Fair Sisters. The farther gas giant was called Dawn. At the moment, the orbits of both Dusk and Ironbloom had brought them relatively close to each other, although Ironbloom’s greater orbital velocity would soon widen the gap.
Unfortunately, there were limitations to Dakota’s ability to communicate with the two vessels. For the moment the signal had to remain, by necessity, entirely line-of-sight. Both Piri and the derelict communicated via highly directional tach-transmissions that could pass through planetary bodies with ease, but the resulting interaction with ordinary matter generated enough Cerenkov-Mahler radiation to draw the attention of Bandati monitoring systems entirely capable of identifying a rogue transmission’s point of origin and its destination.
Blackflower completed a fast orbit around its parent, Dusk, roughly once every twenty-seven hours, which meant Dakota could only make contact with the Piri and the derelict for about half of that time – and only after dark, when the part of Ironbloom on which her tower stood was facing the right way.
But still, there were satellites orbiting both worlds on which signals might be piggybacked. Consequently the derelict was hijacking the Bandati’s own communications grids bit by bit – but that was taking time.
And Dakota wasn’t sure how much time they had left.
Corso turned and saw she was watching him. She caught his eye and immediately he looked away, a look of regret and guilt crossing his face as he did so.
In that moment, she realized he was keeping something from her.
They had clung together the previous night, still desperately glad to see each other, but as the following day progressed, Corso’s continued refusal even to discuss what had happened to him before he appeared in her cell both worried her and made her suspicious.
Her gut feeling that he was keeping something back increased every time she caught his furtive glances. By the time evening began to draw in the atmosphere had become badly strained, and Corso had taken up
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